Exspectata Domus
by Lulu Parque
Summary: What happened after the destruction.
1. Chapter 1

Preslash, Tesla/Henry, teen, 2000~ words.

What happened after the destruction. Spoilers for the entire series abound. Angst, some hurt, and a unique brand of comfort. Our ostentatious vampire and lupine savant, _sans_ the remainder... Enjoy. ~Lu

_Exspectata Domus_

_part 1_

His ears were ringing. High-pitched white noise swam in a disorienting aural pattern designed to skew him, tip him over the edge of the scale into delirium confounded by fire. He remembered a slender hand pressed between his shoulder blades, a firm shove, a grip that was anything but reassuring before his world came to an end, before a symphony a century in the making reached its crescendo and darkness fell.

That hand, the one he remembered ushering him to this new wrecked world was on his throat, two fingers pressing lightly against the thrum. His eyes opened, burning from smoke and panic, and those fingers moved away in haste as if burned.

Henry looked up, past his companion, past the thick blanket of smoke hanging heavily in the air. If he squinted, if he focused his eyesight just enough, he could make out what he imagined were stars in the heavens, weeping for human and inhuman folly, joining him in his mourning for his home, his family.

It was not until this moment, this devastation, that Henry had ever considered looking to the sky to scream, to _howl_, damning the woman he loved as mother, condemning the creatures who he had tried to save, those who turned against him.

Against _them_.

His companion was speaking to him. That arrogant, eloquent voice sounded like it came from under water, in an ocean so far removed from smoke and fire and the _end_ that it sounded out of place.

"_Henry_," Tesla hissed for a fourth time, this time bringing a hand to rest on his charge's shoulder. Their eyes finally met, time started again, and they watched the Sanctuary burn.

...

The memorial service for the Big Guy was a quaint affair. Magnus had done an endless series of them, eulogizing unknown abnormals, trying to prove a point with each sorrowful speech. His service was no different. She was cold, guarded, spoke beautifully but remained unmoved. Will was convinced she'd finally shut down, that loss had finally caught up to her and choked her heart in a cold fist until it eventually closed off.

Psychologists. Huh.

Henry cried more than he could ever remember doing at that service. He clung to Kate, who clung back equally as fiercely, and he was sore afterward from those awful wracking sobs. There was no gathering after the service – each went his separate way once all was said and done. Kate returned to Hollow Earth to become a leader, a warrior woman, a wife, perhaps a mother. Will rejoined Magnus at the underground Sanctuary, though their relationship still seemed strained around the edges, like plastic wrap pulled too tight, beginning to split at the outside.

Henry didn't return to the Sanctuary. He could not face Magnus, look into her sad eyes and know, _know_ she hadn't trusted him enough to tell him that "Indeed, Henry, I would _never_ take your home away from you. It was a difficult decision, to destroy my house, but I had _no choice_. The Sanctuary lives on."

He would go back one day, he knew. How could he stay away from his family for so long, those who loved him, those who only really had his best interests at heart?

He went to England, to be with Erika. She held his head to her breast night after night as he wept, snarled, reminisced, and woke him each morning from his nightmares with soft kisses to his eyelids and lips. Every day he told her he loved her, and every day it became more true. She was becoming his entire world, his existence manifest in a tiny body that held not only her own power, but the strength of their unborn child. One night, when they were making love, the fullness of his affection for her hit him, like a satellite falling to earth, and he stopped: his breath caught, his hips stilled, and all he could do was stare down at her, horror in his eyes.

"Henry?" A delicate hand curved around his cheek, a slender finger rasping over his short beard. "What is it?"

"Erika," he said softly, still not daring to breathe, "you're all I have left."

"That's not true at all –"

"It's true. You're it." He rolled off her, then, not daring to meet her gaze. He could feel her eyes boring into him, he could _smell_ her fear.

"Is that so bad?" she whispered, her hand reaching out to touch him, never landing on his clammy skin. He couldn't answer her, couldn't face her. Instead, he stood from their bed, dressed, and left, with a promise that he would be back, and certainly before the baby was born. His departure was met with those howls he himself dared not let loose.

...

Colorado was as good a place as any to settle in. Henry began renting a little cabin up in the mountains, a one-room affair with a fireplace and an empty bookshelf. It took him a surprisingly short time to grow accustomed to no cellular service or wireless access. He contented himself with stalking the woods, watching the wildlife, cooking terrible meals that the Big Guy would scoff at. Henry would smile fondly every time he burned his food, thinking back to the days when he was chased out of Sanctuary's kitchens by a hairy man in an apron, wielding a spatula and growling ferociously about measurements and proper heat sources.

It took longer than expected for Magnus to send someone after Henry, to bring him home, but Henry knew she realized the gravity of his undoing, would have considered the time he needed to begin healing. But, in the end, Helen Magnus, stubborn woman that she was, put a time limit on Henry's sulking and sent a bloodhound to retrieve him. In no internal scenario, however, had his bloodhound been Nikola Tesla.

While Henry had never really considered himself the outdoorsy type, he knew he didn't look half as ridiculous as Tesla, standing on his rickety porch in wingtips and a gray wool trench coat.

"_Henri_," the bloodhound said, smoothing his lambskin gloves over his long fingers, "Helen thinks it's time for the prodigal son to return to the kingdom. I would tend to agree, considering that you appear to have gone feral." Henry lifted his hand to his face, running his palm over the significant beard he'd grown over the past few months. Granted, his clothes were rumpled and his hair was longer, but _feral_?

"Not just yet," Henry replied sourly, ready to close the oaken door in Tesla's sneering face. Those lambskin covered hands, however, had different plans. They planted themselves firmly on Henry's chest, and Nikola Tesla broke the seal on Henry's own little Sanctuary, his little corner of the world.

"Good lord! An empty bookshelf? Now, I realize that big words can cause head injuries, but you can't honestly tell me you've been playing the part of woodsman all this time without a _single_ book." Tesla rounded on him, his arms a graceful flourish, dancing his disdain around the room. "What the hell have you been doing all this time?"

"Thinking," Henry growled, slamming the door behind his unwelcome guest. Tesla made sense, in a strange kind of way. Annoy him back home. _Good one on ya, doc_.

"Now, now, let's not get carried away," Tesla replied, his lips pulling over his teeth in an impish smirk. "What have you _really_ been doing? I find it difficult to believe that you've been playing house all by your lonesome with only your _thoughts_ as company." Tesla raked his eyes down Henry's form, then back upwards in a slow, disinterested way. "Then again, that would certainly explain your current state."

"Just – don't! I don't want you here, Tesla. Tell Magnus I'm not ready to come home yet." Henry stalked past his companion to the small plywood table in the corner of the room, sitting heavily on the one chair he'd kept in the cabin. Tesla frowned at him, in that way only Tesla could, his entire face drawn downward, offended with the world.

"Yes, because she'd let me come back without you," he groused, his eyes flitting about the interior of the cabin, searching for a place to sit, sneering when all he saw was Henry's unmade bed. He hesitated, Henry noticed with interest, before delicately seating himself on the very edge, gently flicking away the heavy duvet, as if it were soiled, spoiled, unworthy of his touch.

Henry flinched.

"No offense, Tesla, but it doesn't really matter to me if she doesn't let you back in. Never really was your biggest fan." Instead of the expected outburst of reasons why, indeed, Henry should not only _like_ him, but _respect_ and _admire_ him, Tesla merely laughed. It was a quiet sound, coming from low in his belly, a slow reverberation traveling up his torso, through the hand that covered his mouth in a mimicry of Victorian women who were once his contemporaries.

"What's so funny?" Henry asked uneasily, grabbing his mug of cold coffee, previously forgotten on the dingy table top when that polite knock had come. Henry told himself he held the mug because he shouldn't waste the drink, rather than admit that the low sound emanating from his companion was indeed unnerving.

Instead of answering, Tesla merely shook his head, as if humouring a child, and proceeded to remove his gloves, one long finger at a time.

Of all the strange things to notice about another person, Henry always focused in on Tesla's hands. They were delicate, but they held untold power, and not merely of the vampiric sort. Those hands had built weapons, lethal devices, touched the bodies of legend (though Tesla, of course, would never refer to Edison as _legendary_). His hands told countless stories, expressed his contempt for the inferior world in which he was stuck, held dark secrets that would surely never reach the light of day.

And by removing those luxurious gloves from those powerful hands, Henry realized, Tesla was settling in for the long haul.

"Oh, Wolfboy, it makes no difference to me if you _like_ me," he quipped, that toothy smile returning. He gingerly laid his gloves on his knee, smoothing them out, before shifting his attention completely to Henry. "Helen wants you back. She believes that I'm the only one capable of seeing that through –" Here, he paused, ensuring Henry was giving him his full attention. "– if you decide to put up a fight."

Again, Henry flinched.

"In short," Tesla continued, cocking his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, "she's sent me to come tame the beast, ensure you're ready to be socialized again, and plunk you back into your mediocre, albeit more hygienic, place at the Sanctuary. Questions?" Henry could only stare. It wasn't the audacity of the man – that was old hat – nor was it the implication that Henry had indeed gone feral (and, in doing so, possibly let his grooming routine slide). No, it was _Helen Magnus'_ gall. Send the vampire after him, assuming he'll be uncooperative and messy, _retrieve_ him like some runaway?

_Sorry, doc, but that won't fly_.

"Not gonna happen," Henry barked, tensing. He could feel his muscles cording in his back, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He wasn't about to go quietly into the night, go home to mother figure with his tail between his legs, only to be met by her pitying gaze, her "There, there, Henry. It's all right. You're home now. Everything will be better."

And with that thought, he became uncooperative and messy.


	2. Chapter 2

Preslash, Tesla/Henry, teen, 2200~ words.

What happened after the destruction. Spoilers for the entire series abound. Angst, some hurt, and a unique brand of comfort. Our ostentatious vampire and lupine savant, _sans_ the remainder... Enjoy. ~Lu

_Exspectata Domus_

_part 2_

His first memory upon waking was that of going HAP and throwing himself at his startled, toothy visitor. The second was of an elegant face transforming into a macabre version of itself, into black eyes and sharp teeth. The third... Well, that must be why his entire body ached and why he was naked.

The most surprising part of his current state was the heavy duvet thrown over himself, tucked in neatly under his sides. As he began to focus, he realized he was lying in his bed at the cabin, day had turned to night, and his unwelcome guest was puttering around the small space, his trench coat folded perfectly over the back of the chair. There were some bulging paper bags set haphazardly on the plywood table, and a calm fire lapping at neatly stacked logs in the fireplace.

"What happened?" Henry asked blearily, raising himself onto his elbows, watching Tesla closely. His companion didn't startle at the sound of his voice, merely turned to him, hands on his hips, indignant look on his face.

"What _happened_? Oh, let's summarize," Tesla began, stalking over to the bed. He held out an accusatory finger at Henry, wagged it a few times. "You, _Heinrich_, decided to go full moon on me – _without_ recourse, I might add – and I merely had to defend myself." Here, Tesla looked at his nails, one hand still on his hip, a slight pout tugging at his mouth. "Frankly, I'm insulted. I come here, as a _friend_, to bring you home to the adoring throng that is the insane populace of the Sanctuary, only to be assaulted for my altruism. And you people wonder why I don't trust you. Case in point!" Tesla's nostrils flared as he finished his diatribe, and he raised his chin in a haughty gesture, his version of _I told you so_. Henry could only sigh.

"She sent a vampire to bring me home," he grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face. "How the hell was I supposed to react?"

"Hey, now, I _asked_ if you had any questions after I told you my purpose for being here. Had you decided to indulge your curiosity in, say, a less _violent_ and _animalistic_ way, I could have told you that Helen has no timeline for your triumphant return." At this, Henry could only gape. "As I said," Tesla murmured, seeming to have lost his fire, "I'll need to resocialize you. Wild, transforming beast and all. You understand."

Henry had no words, so he merely continued to stare. Tesla quickly lost interest in him and turned to pay mind to the fire, poking at it gingerly. Henry then turned his attention to the bounty on the table.

"What's in the bags?" he asked, beginning to look around for his clothes. He found them neatly folded at the foot of the bed.

"Tools to tame the wild beast," was the waspish answer from the fireplace. Henry rolled his eyes and pulled his pants up over his hips, and made his aching way over to the table. Peering into the first bag he saw razors (plural – his beard wasn't _that_ bad), body washes meant for dainty women who liked to smell like pumpkins, shaving cream (mix your own – very Victorian, indeed), and a bottle of dry shampoo. The second bag yielded a similar assortment of toiletries, each offending Henry more than the last. The third bag held fresh fruit, bread and cheese, two bottles of wine, and two sets of pristine silver cutlery.

It was the last bag that renewed Henry's undoing.

Electrical wires, soldering equipment, screwdrivers, bits of metal and plastic – a collection of his Life Before This. Henry couldn't help the sound that escaped him in a rush, a mix of anguish, relief and terror. He wasn't ready for this, wasn't ready to go back.

"In case you hadn't noticed," Tesla snapped from the fire, "I'm of the opinion that you need to shave, bathe, and possibly shave again." He turned to face Henry, his arms crossed over his chest. "That other stuff can wait, unless you're hungry. In which case I'll use the food as a bargaining chip for you to, you know, shave and bathe. _Capice_?"

"Copy that," Henry said hoarsely, thankful for Tesla's unrelenting focus on everything that truly didn't matter.

...

Much to his chagrin, Henry did feel better after a good shave. While he didn't appreciate smelling like Thanksgiving dessert, he did feel cleaner, his skin softer. He just hoped that the spicy scent of the body wash didn't attract any strange animals from the woods, the smell still lingering in the outdoor basin.

Tesla appeared in better spirits, as well, having revealed another bag, a duffel, this one housing two wine glasses, an iPod loaded with Chopin, Vivaldi and Tchaikovsky, an assortment of clothes (both for Tesla and Henry), and a few books. Henry sorted through the titles of the books (academic, technical texts – Tesla very clearly figured he was on vacation) and nibbled on some bread and cheese while Tesla sorted out which concerto suited his mood.

"Thank you," Henry said, hesitantly. He knew the kind of Pandora's Box he was opening by offering Tesla that much. But, what else could he do? In a very Tesla kind of way, this was exactly what Henry needed: wholesome food, good wine (he assumed – this was _Tesla_), and company that wouldn't pity or coddle him.

"Don't get used to it," Tesla replied absently, fiddling with the iPod, a strange sight in itself. "I only brought two bottles – once we drink those, play time's over."

"But you said –"

"I _said_ we weren't following a timeline made by Helen. You honestly expect me to suffer your company once the bottles are empty? I think not, my lupine friend. You have less than three hours –"

"You're kidding me!"

"– to get your act together, stop sulking, and prepare yourself for your anticipated return. And besides," Tesla huffed, looking sidelong at Henry, "there's nowhere for me to sleep. You see the problem."

"I'll take the floor!" Henry yelped, staring desperately at Tesla. There was a brief moment where a strange tableau was painted: Tesla, standing with his iPod in one hand, a full wine glass in the other, and Henry, feet firmly planted beside the table, archaic texts hanging limply in his hands. They stared at each other, Tesla with disdain, Henry with desperation. It was Tesla who finally spoke.

"You're just lucky I can drive into town to get more wine."

...

Henry couldn't help it: he stared at Tesla as he brushed his teeth.

"When you go all vampire, is there plaque on the extended parts of the fangs? I mean, do you have to brush those, too?" Henry was certainly thankful he couldn't understand the language Tesla was surely insulting him in.

...

"_Heinrich_, wake up!"

"Wha? What's wrong?"

"You're _snoring_."

"Mmm, can't help it."

"You can if I put a pillow over your face. Be silent, Furrious George."

...

Three days passed without incident. Tesla spent his time poring over the texts he brought, while Henry continued his routine of walking the forest, wandering aimlessly until his stomach started to growl. Upon returning to the cabin this day, Henry found it empty. No vampire. Rolling his shoulders, Henry contemplated taking a nap in his bed. The floor was wreaking havoc on his body, and Tesla refused to switch or share, so Henry had had no relief for his poor aching muscles.

Deciding this was the best course of action, he undressed and settled in for a nice long nap. He had started drifting when Tesla returned, arms full of clanking bottles, grumbling about idiot hosts not being around to assist.

"Henry! Help me with these." Henry merely groaned a reply and turned to face the wall, pulling the duvet up over his head. All he wanted was a nap, in his bed, undisturbed. Clearly, that was too much to ask for.

"You're not sick, are you? While I could bleed you to cure whatever ails you, I'd be more inclined to drag your addled body back to Helen to fix you."

"Not sick," Henry moaned, pulling the duvet more tightly around himself. "Just tired. The floor sucks, dude." There was a brief pause, then a long-suffering sigh.

"Very well. Too bad, though. The bleeding had its appeal."

...

This nightmare was familiar: Henry stood atop a burning spire of the Sanctuary, looking down on the chaos and madness of a strange war. He couldn't make out the faces of the figures below, killing each other, using guns, swords, spears and claws. But he could hear them, brutal screams and terrified pleas rising with the smoke from the burning building.

A hand on his elbow made him turn, as it did every time, and he was staring into the cherubic face of Ashley Magnus. Her blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, her big eyes bored right into his, pleading.

"Henry," she said, her voice ethereal, barely there.

"Hi, Ashley," he replied sadly, taking her hands in his. There was an explosion to the east, a gust of wind came, blowing flames over him, and when they dissipated, she was gone. As she always was.

The dream progressed as it usually did. He turned and he was in his lab, Erika there, her pregnant belly full and ready to burst. She smiled that beautiful smile of hers, right before the fire consumed her. And, Henry realized, as he always did, that the fire destroying the people, the Sanctuary, came from him.

Henry knew how to rationalize this nightmare. Too much time spent with Will, he figured. Henry knew that his fear of losing those he loved drove him to his isolation, his self-imposed solitary confinement. He left Erika because he realized he could never stand the thought of losing her. Best give up what he loved rather than have it taken away.

That rationalization, however, couldn't stop the fear, the sorrow, and, as he always did, Henry woke with a shout.

...

Only this time, there was someone to hear him. While he screamed and panted and clawed at the duvet, Henry was vaguely aware of a soothing voice whispering absolutely nothing, a cool hand pressing on his forehead. He thrashed, staving off his body's impulse to transform, flailing blindly at the gentle hand on his head. It was only after that hand became firm and strong, moved to his right shoulder, as another did his left, did Henry open his eyes in panic to a set of equally perturbed eyes.

Right. Tesla.

For several minutes, the only sounds in the small cabin were that of both men's heavy breathing: Henry's born of fear, Tesla's of exertion from holding down a panicked HAP.

"Want to tell me what that was about?" Tesla finally asked, easing his hold on Henry, though not letting go. Henry's mind flew through options, excuses: _just a bad dream, thought about you moving in permanently, it's just a HAP thing, no worries_. Instead, before any words could come, he broke. Sobbing, gasping, quaking, Henry finally lost control. He screwed his eyes shut as the sobs wracked his body, more powerful than at the Big Guy's memorial service. His face was messy, tracked with tears he couldn't begin to know how to stop, his hands shook, his stomach roiled with such a deep down ache he believed he could never be right again.

It took several moments to register the hesitant body next to his, gently edging him toward the wall, awkwardly wrapping him in too-long arms. Henry couldn't help throwing himself against Tesla's chest, distantly surprised that the lanky man could absorb the impact without flinching. He felt a hand on the back of his head, at the nape of his neck, long, cool fingers drawing soothing circles beneath his hairline. The other hand snaked its way to the small of his back, repeating the circular pattern, easing Henry closer.

He had no idea how much time had passed. His head was resting on Tesla's chest, his cream button-down shirt moist with tears. Trying to calm himself down, Henry focused on the steady rise and fall of Tesla's breathing, the thrum of his heartbeat, the warmth of his body. Finally, he raised his head. He was met with a curious look, Tesla's head tilted to the side, his eyebrows knitted. His face all but screamed, _Well_?

"Sorry about that," Henry rasped, his throat dry and sore from the ordeal. He made to untangle himself from his companion, but Tesla would have none of it.

"Don't be a martyr. Stay." Henry reluctantly obeyed, putting his head back down. He started to think he had Tesla all wrong, he really was a great guy, truly compassionate under the surface, until, "Good dog." And Henry slept.


	3. Chapter 3

Preslash, Tesla/Henry, teen, 1900~ words.

What happened after the destruction. Spoilers for the entire series abound. Angst, some hurt, and a unique brand of comfort. Our ostentatious vampire and lupine savant, _sans_ the remainder... Enjoy. ~Lu

_Exspectata Domus_

_part 3_

The next morning, he felt hungover. _An emotional breakdown will do that to you, Hank_. Henry sat up, immediately noticing the distinct lack of vampire. And vampire things. Tesla's duffel was gone, as were his books from the table. It was like a punch to the gut, only a bit higher up, and Henry had to take two deeps breaths to keep from flying into a panic.

_Well, look at it this way: one less thing to lose_. Not his most comforting thought, but Henry pushed it from his mind as quickly as it had appeared. Shaking his head, he threw the duvet off and stood from the bed, stretching, mildly pleased that sleeping in a bed had done him some good. He threw on a sweater so he could relieve himself at the outhouse when he glimpsed at the bookcase and froze. Tesla's books weren't on the table because they were resting askew on a freshly dusted bookshelf. And as if by kismet, Tesla strode into the cabin at that moment, dressed in a suit and carrying a large shopping bag overflowing with a plush purple comforter.

"Good morning," Tesla chirped, setting the bag down on the bed. "Feel better after your little episode last night? One good thing about a man crying on my shoulder is the distinct lack of mascara, unless you're, you know – well, that's a story for another time." His trademark toothy grin slid across his face at his own interruption, and to Henry's utter shock, he _winked_.

"Y-yeah, thanks, I'm better," Henry stuttered, his eyes moving from Tesla to the purple monstrosity poking out of the bag. "What's that?"

"_This_," Tesla said, taking the comforter out of the bag with a flourish, "is your saving grace. I'll now share a bed with you, since I've acquired for myself a wonderful blanket to call my own. Not sure if you've heard," he said lowly, conspiratorially, "but I have a problem with sharing."

"No kidding," Henry replied, and he felt a grin of his own spread across his face. It disappeared just as quickly when he realized he couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that. Apparently, Tesla noticed the shift in mood.

"If you want one of your own, you'll have to buy it yourself. I'm not your sugar daddy." He began fiddling with the blanket, meticulously relieving it of its tags, smoothing it out over one half of the bed. "It certainly spruces the place up a bit, don't you think?"

"Yeah, Nikola," Henry said around a strange lump in his throat, "it really does."

...

Tesla's excuse for allowing Henry to share the bed with him went something like this: "Obviously, you have some deep-seated issues about sleeping on floors. I'd be mad _not_ to share the bed with you after your little dramatic display. No, I'll sacrifice my own comfort – and possibly my virtue, if you don't keep your wandering hands on your side of the bed – just so you'll refrain from crying all over me again. Salt is _hell_ on silk."

...

Henry still had nightmares, of course, but the aftermath was easier to cope with, even if Tesla did start in on him mid-cry.

"Seriously, what _are_ you going on about?"

"What did I say about my virtue and sticking to your side of the bed?"

"God, what I wouldn't _give_ for the snoring!"

"You do realize that you're not a _girl_, Wonderwolf?"

But before the snark, or shortly after, calm, soothing words would come, ease Henry back into himself, placate the beast for another night. It gave Henry something to hold onto.

Something to lose.

...

"We need to talk," Henry said that morning over coffee and pastries. Tesla raised an eyebrow at him.

"You mean we must diverge from your usual form of communication, the grunting and pointing?"

"I'm serious, Nikola."

"So am I."

"Listen," Henry said, scowling at his companion, who was languishing on the bed with a glass of wine ("it's some _time_ some_where_!"), "I have something to ask you, and I'd appreciate if you were straight with me."

"And I'd appreciate better weather and indoor plumbing, but you can't have everything."

"Stop! I just – I'd like to know how you cope. With, you know, _loss_. I mean, you must've outlived so many of your friends, your family. How do you keep going?" Of all the stupid questions Tesla had been expecting out of Henry, this was the last.

"You want to know how I grieve, _Henri_?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think that I do?" Tesla sat up on the bed, giving Henry a stern look. "Don't you think I've learned my lesson by now, _wunderkind_? After the first, I don't know, fifty or so years, you don't think a genius would have caught on to the whole, 'nothing to love, nothing to lose' thing?"

"But you love Magnus," Henry whispered, staring into his coffee mug.

"Not really," Tesla sighed, swirling the wine in his glass. "I adore her, to be sure, but she's not the be all, end all of my existence."

"You're telling me you wouldn't grieve if she died?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

"I don't believe you!" Henry snapped, standing and stalking over to the bed, glaring down at Tesla.

"That's your right, and the main flaw with free will," Tesla hissed, taking a long drink of his wine.

"And me? You wouldn't grieve over me?" Henry crouched down, able to stare harshly into Tesla's eyes. "You say that about the doc, but she's not here. I am. I want you to look me in the eye, Nikola, and tell me you wouldn't grieve over me." Tesla leveled his gaze with Henry's, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.

"I won't play this childish game with you," he snarled, standing abruptly, going to the table to refill his glass.

"You can't say it!" Henry yelled, straightening up and pointing an accusatory finger at Tesla. "I was right. It's all big talk, probably a stupid vampire thing, you would –"

"If you died today, I'd walk away as if nothing had happened," Tesla interrupted, his voice acid, his wine glass shattering in a powerful, angry grip. "You think your life has merit, Henry, that I would allow my own existence to be interrupted by the likes of _you_? Get over yourself, _werewolf_, and try living in the real world. The only reason I'm here is because life has two cosmic jokes: comedy and tragedy. I'm uncertain of which absurdity I'm currently engaged in!"

The last word Henry had actually heard was _werewolf_ before he fled the cabin, his heart racing, his breath coming in short, painful gasps. _Nothing to love, nothing to lose_.

_Copy that_.

...

He remembered that hand between his shoulder blades, urging him forward, away from danger. He remembered that concerned face looming over him as the Sanctuary burned. And there were other memories, each so vivid and poignant he could taste them, smell them.

Being rescued from an interdimensional octopus creature, hellbent on eating him.

Bent over a workbench in his lab, grinning at one another, giddy as school boys at their latest discovery.

"Well done, Henry," bright eyes shining from a mischievous face, a strange kind of pride written over delicate vampiric features.

_Henri, Heinrich, Enrico the Wonderwolf, Wolfboy_...

_Get over yourself_.

Okay. Okay.

...

When Henry returned to the cabin, he was startled to find Tesla flung across the bed, his back against the wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His feet, clad only in socks, hung off the bed. He looked absolutely miserable.

"Before you say anything," Tesla muttered bitterly, cradling an empty bottle of wine to his chest, "or decide to go lunar cycle on me, let me say something."

"I'm listening," Henry hissed, grabbing the chair and setting it before Tesla. He sat, and they were eye level, glaring at one another with barely contained anger.

"I might have been … _hasty_ in my evaluation of my feelings toward your inevitable demise." Tesla suddenly found a stray thread on Henry's duvet very interesting. He tugged at it gently, refusing to look at his companion.

"That it?" Henry snapped.

"No!" Tesla raised his head, his expression bruised. "You want to know how I cope?" He spread his arms, but this time, rather than grandiose and dramatic, it looked self-deprecating. "_This_ is how I cope. Anger, insults, _humanity_. _This_ is my undoing, Henry. What's yours?" he snarled, looking for all the world lost and enraged at his predicament. "You can't begin to imagine being victim to these transient and imperfect human emotions for as long as I have. If Helen Magnus died tomorrow, I'd be lost." He lowered his arms, his head. "I wouldn't know what to do."

"I hear ya," Henry said, his voice still edged with anger. "And what about me? Would you grieve for me?" Dead horse, check; stick, check.

"Why do you think I'm here, you imbecile? I already am!" Tesla yelled, flinging the empty wine bottle across the room, shattering it against the hearth.

"Magnus didn't send you?" Henry asked, aghast, feeling a little lost himself.

"She inferred that you should be coming home soon. I just felt I should … _expedite_ the process. So, you know, she wouldn't worry. Anymore than she already was, because, _ thank you_, she's worried sick! We all were." If Henry didn't know any better, he would have sworn Tesla's ears went red.

"And you're _grieving_ over me? Now?"

"Well, not now. You're clearly in one piece, and aside from those pesky night terrors and your awful hygiene, you seem to be doing just fine. But, before I knew how you were faring," Tesla said, gritting his teeth, "I might have been... _concerned_ about the state of your being."

"Holy hell," Henry said, eyes wide, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "you _like_ me."

"No! No, no, let's not get carried away now!" Tesla snapped, wagging his finger. "Let's not get crazy with the whole attributing affection thing. Like is _so_ strong a word –"

"It really isn't."

"– it's more that I find you … _interesting_. And interesting people are so hard to come by these days, you know. Rather than find myself a new slightly intelligent werewolf to torment and occasionally engage in conversation with, I figured I should just preserve the one I already have. Really, it was just a convenience thing."

"Uh huh."

"You should feel blessed that you have a friend like me," Tesla said, on the verge of sulking.

"Hey, I do," Henry said, smiling. He stood from the chair and settled beside Tesla on the bed, mimicking his posture. If Tesla was bothered by the fact that their shoulders were touching, he didn't say anything.


	4. Chapter 4

Preslash, Tesla/Henry, teen, 2300~ words.

What happened after the destruction. Spoilers for the entire series abound. Angst, some hurt, and a unique brand of comfort. Our ostentatious vampire and lupine savant, _sans_ the remainder... Enjoy. ~Lu

_Exspectata Domus_

_part 4_

A month passed, and Tesla hadn't mentioned the Sanctuary in at least a week. Henry's nightmares had begun to taper off into vague feelings he had trouble shaking off during the day. Tesla distracted him from them, however, with his usual charm and unique flavour of conversation.

"You should get drapes," he said one evening, sprawled out on the new rug in front of the fire, wine glass in hand. "It might actually make this place slightly liveable."

"The windows are too small," Henry replied absently, tinkering with a dead radio he'd found in the forest. "No point."

"There's always a point to tasteful accents," Tesla quipped, draining his glass. He cleared his throat loudly, raised the glass, and waggled it at Henry once he'd gotten his attention. "If you wouldn't mind."

"I mind," Henry huffed, but he grabbed the bottle from the table and went over to Tesla, pouring a generous helping into his glass.

"Now why don't you join me by the fire, since you're already here? The piece of trash that you're trying to resurrect isn't going anywhere." Henry scowled at Tesla, who had that impish smirk plastered on his face, but decided that the vampire might just be right. He snagged the other glass from the table and sat across from Tesla, pouring himself a helping of the merlot.

"Losing James was probably the hardest loss of my life," Tesla said offhandedly, staring into the fire. Henry was so taken aback by the sudden confession, he was left speechless. His silence was apparent encouragement for Tesla to continue. "We had several years apart, decades in fact, before his death. It was so sudden: in one day I got him back, then lost him anew. This time permanently." Henry couldn't mistake the bitterness in Tesla's voice for anything but what it was.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Yes, well, that's how it goes: life's a cruel bitch. Death, too. I believe they're in cahoots." Henry couldn't help but laugh. Tesla grinned back, and raised his glass. "To absent friends: may their memories be enough to get us through our days."

"Cheers," Henry replied softly, taking a small sip of the wine. "Tell me, Nikola," Henry started, emboldened by Tesla's confession, "were you and Watson – you know...?"

"Lovers?"

"Something like that, yeah."

"At one time, yes," Tesla said, again staring into the fire. The smirk was completely gone, replaced by an expression Henry couldn't name. Whimsy, perhaps. "The term is greatly misleading however. Are you asking me if he was the love of my life? The answer is no. He was a good friend who understood the need of both vampires, and human men."

"Did you love him?"

"Not so that he would have noticed," Tesla snorted, a hint of derision in his voice. "No, I saved all my love for women who fawned over my brilliance." This time it was Henry's turn to snort. "What?"

"I doubt they fawned over you for your _brilliance_, Nikola."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Henry said, a smirk of his own stretching his lips, "that sometimes you're more pleasant to look at than listen to." If anything, Tesla managed to look both offended and immensely pleased at the same time.

"Is this your professional opinion, _casanova_?"

"I'm just saying that sometimes you say so much that, you know, people will tune you out. But you're nice to look at." Henry couldn't help the blush that spread high on his cheeks.

"Huh." Tesla gave Henry a very uncomfortable once-over. "The werewolf thinks I'm hot. Just great. You're _so_ sleeping on the floor tonight, lest you have an irresistible urge to show me how _good_ you think I look."

"Okay now! Definitely didn't mean it like that," Henry yelped, holding his hands up in defense, wine and all.

"Oh, no, I see where you're going with this, _Heinrich_," Tesla said blandly, swirling his wine. "I mean, I _do_ understand. Alone, in the woods, with _moi_, brilliant, _attractive_ me." Here, he grinned. "How are you managing to contain yourself?"

"That's it, this conversation's over," Henry grumbled, standing up and placing his glass on the table. "And you started it, anyhow."

"And how's that, _Henri_? By telling you how devastated I was by the loss of a dear friend? _Oh_ no, _you_ started in on this whole me being hot business."

"I never said you were hot!"

"But it's so obvious. Just admit it. You'll sleep better."

"Unbelievable," Henry groused, taking off his shirt and climbing into bed. He had his back to Tesla, though he could feel that arrogant look piercing through the back of his head. A long silence stretched, enough for Henry's eyelids to become heavy, his breathing slower and more relaxed. He shut his eyes, forgetting about Tesla, the gentle fire across the cabin, the strange tension in the air. His dreams had him by the throat before he knew it.

...

"Henry." He knew that voice. Soft, affected, full of warmth. He turned around, standing in the Sanctuary's entrance hall, and saw her. Helen Magnus, beautiful, gentle, her hand outstretched to him. "Henry," she said again, her lips unmoving, "it's time to come home."

"I can't," he replied, the echo of his voice in the grand hall lost in the dream. "Home's gone. This home – it doesn't exist anymore."

"Oh, _Henry_." She strode toward him, her movements almost predatory, very unMagnuslike. "Home is with me, with _us_." And suddenly _he_ was there, broad shoulders, hairy arms, grin big enough to light up a room.

"Hey, Big Guy," Henry said, his stomach bottoming out at the sight of a dead man.

"See? We're waiting for you," Magnus quipped, taking Henry by the hand. "Come home."

"I can't," he said again, desperately, his voice shaking. "It's gone. _He's_ gone, doc." Magnus and the Big Guy shared a look between them, and Magnus suddenly dropped Henry's hand, as if it were burning.

"A very bad choice indeed, Henry." And then they were gone.

...

The dream took a strange turn. Henry was sitting on the floor of his cabin, in front of the empty fireplace. There were ridiculous orange and green drapes covering the walls, and his bookcase had become a wine cabinet. Something was lying in his bed, its entire body covered by Tesla's comforter – _no, wrong shade of purple_ – and it was breathing wetly. Henry stood to investigate, pulled the blanket back. Dead eyes stared back at him, two sets, that of mother and very small child. Henry stumbled back from Erika's body, her entire front streaked in blood, long claw marks torn down her chest and stomach. Her neck was a gruesome tangle of exposed sinew and gore, blood oozing out in a rhythmic pattern. If he looked closely enough, Henry could make out teeth marks around the wound.

The infant lying beside her was much the same. Claw and teeth marks crisscrossed its tiny body, blood pooled around little hands and feet. Henry swayed on his feet, shouting something over and over again – _no, no, no_ – and he continued to back away. The hearth jabbed him roughly in the shoulders, and it was only then that he managed to tear his gaze from the macabre scene on his bed. He looked to the door of the cabin, and made a mad dash.

...

"Ow, ow, wake _up_!" Henry bolted upright in bed, something akin to a howl tearing from his throat. He looked down at his shaking hands, realized they were paws, willed himself to turn back from beast to man.

"Oh god, god no," he whispered fervently, his head shaking back and forth, as if by its own accord.

"Henry!" Tesla yelled, sounding uncharacteristically _pissed_, and Henry nearly jumped when a clawed hand latched onto his shoulder. Turning his head, he saw that Tesla indeed was in full vampire mode, probably having something to do with the nasty claw marks down his chest, the deep, gushing wound on his neck. "What – the – _hell_?"

"N-Nikola," Henry stammered, taking in the pooling blood, the slowly healing wounds. He could only stare, his brain a muddled fog, his limbs heavy with confusion. "What...?"

"Are you _done_ trying to kill me?" Tesla roared, his fangs shortening, his claws receding. His appearance was back to normal, but the blood remained. Instead of answering, Henry scrambled to climb over Tesla to get out of bed. He had one foot on the floor before his stomach decided to empty itself of all its contents, and the world went black.

...

Tendrils of heat licked across Henry's face, his first sensation since that of terror becoming darkness. An uneven warmth spread across his cheeks, over his eyelids, caressed his lips. He dimly heard the cracks and pops of a gentle fire, lazily engulfing wood and air. A band of pressure circled his chest and upper arms, and whatever his back was resting against held almost as much heat as the fire.

And it breathed.

"Awake?" Tesla whispered from behind him. Henry slowly opened his eyes, which felt sandy and raw – _was I crying_? Tesla had put them in front of the fire, wrapped in his ridiculous comforter, his arms tightly wound around Henry's torso from behind._ Holding the beast in place_.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse, his throat terribly dry.

"I was hoping you could tell me," came the acid reply, those arms loosening their hold by a hair.

"I – I had a nightmare."

"Yeah, got that, genius. About _what_?" The blanket was low enough on Henry's belly that he could see Tesla's hands, elegantly crossed over his stomach. His index finger was tapping impatiently.

"Erika... and the baby. _Dead_," Henry choked, a shudder ripping down his spine. At the trembling, Tesla tightened his hold.

"Well. That sounds unpleasant."

"God. You have no idea."

...

Tesla was kind enough to launder the bed himself. While the purple comforter had made a clean getaway, the rest of the bedding had been covered in the vampire's blood. Henry still couldn't look him in the eye, which Tesla didn't seem to mind one bit.

The next two days were strained, quiet, words being exchanged sparsely, a drought in the desert of the cabin. Tesla spent most of his time in town, doing whatever it was that vampires did in a place with a population of three hundred. Henry refused to go on his walks in the forest, instead sulking by the fireplace, one of Tesla's impossible texts open on his lap, unread.

Henry wouldn't go near the bed.

When Tesla returned home that evening, he barely glanced at his companion. He set down a small bag of deli sandwiches on the table, took one for himself, and settled on the bed with a book. Henry didn't even look up.

After an hour, Tesla had had it.

"Okay. You, my lupine friend, need to stop sulking. I've given you your space, I've washed away the evidence of your wolfish episode, I've even held back the insults for a painful forty-eight hours. I'm not here to play the role of your invisible house guest! Either you put your big boy pants on and get over yourself, or I leave you to your misery and ghastly culinary skills. Whatever the choice, make it snappy. I think I've been too generous with my patience for you. You're clearly starting to get used to it." When Henry didn't reply, didn't even look at him, Tesla huffed and stood, dragging out his duffel from under the bed.

After a few moments, time finally caught up to Henry. Sounds of glasses clanging and shirts ruffling caught his attention, though they were impossibly far away. He raised his head, saw Tesla stacking his books in the duffel one by one, glanced over to his now empty bookcase.

_No_.

"Nikola, wait." He finally found his voice. Tesla rounded on him, sneering.

"_Oh_, isn't that just like you – wait until I'm halfway through something before saying a word. Two words, actually – your vocabulary is improving. Perhaps a full sentence will follow?" He turned back to the bed, continued packing his things away, slowly robbing Henry of himself.

"I don't want you to leave."

"No, you'd just rather I stay so you can use me as target practice for those meat hooks of yours. No thanks, I'm _good_." The zipper on the duffel tore through the cabin like thunder, and Henry flinched.

"You're – Nikola, you're all I have left." Familiar words, unfamiliar pain.

"You're damn right I am!" Tesla turned again, his cheeks red, his eyes impossibly narrow. "So why don't you get it through that neanderthal skull that in order to _keep_ something, you must _earn_ it." Again, Henry flinched. He didn't know what to say, didn't know if Tesla would listen even if he could find the words. So instead he stood, his knees wobbly, and closed the distance between them in three long strides. He wrapped his arms tightly about Tesla's waist, pulling him into a fierce, unexpected hug. If it only took a fraction of a second for the vampire's arms to come around Henry, neither of them noticed.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world – like coming home.


	5. Chapter 5

Preslash, Tesla/Henry, teen, 3100~ words. The conclusion. Author's notes after the finish line.

What happened after the destruction. Spoilers for the entire series abound. Angst, some hurt, and a unique brand of comfort. Our ostentatious vampire and lupine savant, _sans_ the remainder... Enjoy. ~Lu

_Exspectata Domus_

_part 5_

"I don't wanna."

"Henry, you're being childish."

"But, seriously, _dude_ –"

"Don't you _dude_ me. You asked what I felt would be the best course of action, promising me you'd take it. Suck it up, princess. A deal's a deal."

Henry's face fell. After their Moment (though neither of them had actually said anything about the hug, had even acknowledged it had happened), Henry had told Tesla how at a loss he was, how small he felt in a world that kept growing impossibly bigger. Tesla had said something about needing a change of surroundings ("civilization really isn't so bad, _wunderkind_."), Henry had agreed, and here they stood.

Regret couldn't even begin to describe how Henry was feeling.

They stood before a small cottage, quaint, with a white-picket fence and a weathered sign that read _Alpine B & B_. The drive into town had Henry believing that they would be going out for a meal, perhaps going to see a movie (though this town was distinctly lacking a cinema). Tesla, however, had other things in mind.

"A change of surroundings. Indoor plumbing. Central heating. _Mirrors_ on _walls_." Henry scoffed at this, remembering Tesla's seven minute rant about only having a hand-held mirror in the cabin. "Now, come on. You can't imagine how badly I yearn to hear a toilet flush."

...

They were the only occupants of the cottage. Henry suspected that Tesla had paid the proprietor a hefty sum to leave them the bed and breakfast for the night. He was thankful, though – wouldn't want to scare the locals with a HAP incident.

Tesla looked right at home. The place was decorated in a Victorian style: lace trimmed _everything_, all the furniture was hard and had high backs, and there seemed to be an ornate mirror on every wall. It bothered Henry to no end that the fireplace was fake.

"Oh, please," Tesla quipped, "we don't _need_ a fireplace. Civilization, remember?"

There were three bedrooms available, so it surprised Henry when Tesla had him put their bags together in the master suite. After being told to take a "real bath, not one of those primitive soakings in the great outdoors," Henry made himself at home in the ensuite. He took a shower instead of a bath – God, he'd missed these – and threw on a pair of sweats and a threadbare tee before making his way downstairs to the parlour.

Tesla was languishing on the fainting couch, glass of wine in hand. A soft symphony was playing in the background, and his eyes were closed. To Henry's knowledge, he'd never seen Tesla so unguarded.

Except, of course, when he'd told him about James.

"Hi," Henry said softly, seating himself across from Tesla in one of those ridiculously hard wingback chairs.

"Hi yourself," Tesla replied, cracking his eyes open. A lazy smile spread across his face, and Henry couldn't help smiling back. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, I do. Didn't realize how much I'd missed showers."

"Mmm, yes, we'll eventually get to the point where you can engage humans again." Tesla winked and took a sip of his wine. "But that can wait. For now, just relax, have a glass of wine, and allow the sounds of _Pyotr_ to sooth your soul."

"Copy that," Henry replied, pouring himself some wine. Tesla closed his eyes again, the fingers of his free hand dancing lazily to the violins singing in the background. If he squinted hard enough, Henry thought, Tesla could almost pass for human.

...

Bedtime was an odd affair. Tesla insisted they share the same bed ("what if you have another nightmare – I _refuse_ to have to pay for a new set of tacky sheets to the landlady – I'd best keep an eye on you"), and Henry obliged without much of a fight at all.

Tesla drew himself a bath as Henry was climbing into bed. He was lying on his back, staring at the ornate stuccoed ceiling, when a familiar tension started low in his belly.

_You're all I have left_. He'd said that to Erika once upon a time, and meant it. But he had let her go, with his full intention of returning to her, but that fierce loyalty he'd once felt now seemed so long ago. His heart still twisted when he thought of her, yes – he still loved her more than he'd loved anyone – but she was no longer the focus of his world. No, in some sick twist of fate, it was _Nikola Tesla_ who had Henry, completely. An unexpected friend, a reliable companion, an opponent who he couldn't hurt (permanently) if he tried – Tesla, Henry realized, had become _everything_.

Perhaps this was what Stockholm syndrome felt like. Except, Tesla had come to _him_, played by _his_ disorganized rules, slept in _his_ too small bed. Granted, he'd bought himself his own blanket, but that was a moot point.

When Tesla came to bed smelling like cherry blossoms, Henry couldn't help but blurt out, "Are you _courting_ me?" Tesla had slid one leg under the covers, but stopped mid-motion, gaping at Henry as though he'd grown a second head.

"Perhaps too much wine, _Heinrich_?"

"I'm serious!" Henry snapped, sitting up and pointing an accusatory finger at his companion. "You are, aren't you? Why the hell else would you have come? Have _stayed_?"

"You think I have a _crush_ on you?"

"No," Henry said, his brows knitting together. "No, it's not that. I think – Nikola, you may be all _I_ have, but I'm all you've got, too."

"Preposterous."

"I don't think so." Henry moved closer, now that Tesla had slid all the way into bed, his arms crossed over his chest. Petulant. "Maybe it wasn't like that at first, but now you want to stay as much as I don't wanna leave." It looked as though Tesla was chewing on the inside of his cheek, mulling over something important. He was staring straight ahead, refusing to look at Henry.

"Yeah, so what."

"So what? So, we need to talk about this!"

"There's nothing to talk about, Henry, I _assure_ you. Now go to sleep." Tesla made a violent show of getting himself comfortable, turning his back to Henry, fluffing his pillow with entirely too much force. Henry grinned.

"I may think you're hot, but you _like_ me."

"Oh, shut up."

...

It turned out that Tesla had rented the cottage for a full week. By the second day, Henry's belief in Tesla's genius was reaffirmed. He was soaking in the large bathtub, complete with bubbles (cherry blossom-scented, no less), when Tesla knocked lightly on the door.

"Come in," Henry said, chest deep in thick foam. Tesla opened the door slowly, peeking his head around.

"Are you decent?"

"He asks as he looks," Henry muttered, smiling despite himself.

"At least I asked," Tesla replied haughtily, striding into the bathroom and seating himself on the edge of the tub. He absently poked at some of the bubbles on the surface, and gave Henry a serious look. "We're going back to the Sanctuary as soon as our time here is up." Oh, he had seen this coming – no amount of preparation, however, could have made those words sound anything but terrifying.

"Yeah, I figured," Henry said past the lump in his throat. "All good things, huh?"

"Mmm," Tesla replied, his attention straying to the bubbles. "We have a little under a week to get your demons under control, _wunderkind_, before we set you loose on civilized society once more." Here, he looked up, met Henry's gaze. "Tell me what you need from me in order for that to happen."

"Nothing special," Henry rasped, desperately trying to ignore the cold rock in the pit of his stomach.

"Ah," Tesla said, flicking the bubbles from his fingers with entirely too much grace, "so you'll tell me when you're ready." With that, he strode out of the bathroom, leaving Henry with too much to think about.

...

They didn't eat dinner together that night, Tesla retiring to the parlour with several bottles of wine mid afternoon, uncharacteristically silent. Henry found some cold salads in the fridge and ate in the bedroom, chewing absently as he thought of Tesla's offer.

_Tell me what you need from me_.

Henry didn't know. The thing that compelled him toward Tesla was neither sexual nor romantic, but it was _there_, stark and large, like a painful hunger. He was confounded – what could Tesla give him that would _fix_ him, make him right for his return to the Sanctuary, to Helen Magnus?

And there it was. That awful elephant in the room reared its ugly head, and Henry took two stairs at a time down to the parlour.

...

"Why did she do it?" Henry asked, leaning against the door frame of the parlour. "Magnus – why did she let it burn?"

"To give you a future I'm not so sure you deserve," Tesla replied quietly, staring into the fake fire. "To allow those who would see us all die an animal's death believe we were truly gone, a blight on the earth cast away to the unknown depths of some banal Christian hell." Tesla turned his head to meet Henry's eyes, his gaze level. "But that's not the question you want to ask me."

"No. You're right. Why didn't she tell me?"

"The same reason she didn't tell _me_, Henry: we would have disagreed with her, tried to talk her out of it. In order to make the decision easiest for us, she took the choice out of our hands altogether. And that? Is pure Helen Magnus." He raised his glass in a mock toast. "Our misery is not our own, but her's so thrust upon us. That woman is her own kind of poetry." He motioned for Henry to join him on the settee, crossing his legs in that elegant way of his. Henry took the invitation, and sat entirely too close.

Tesla didn't seem to mind.

"Is it unfair that I'm mad at her, Nikola? Should I be thanking her instead?"

"Of course not. Feel all the anger you think is just. But know this, my friend: her love for you extends beyond the four walls of _any_ sanctuary, and she'll do whatever it takes to protect you. Including, as has been witnessed, betraying you, betraying your trust. But realize that she does indeed love you, and she would do anything for you. And do you know why that is?" Tesla set his glass down and turned to face Henry squarely, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. "Because _you're_ all _she_ has left."

This time, when the tears rolled down Henry's face, it felt like forgiveness.

...

For the first time, Henry clung to Tesla before the nightmares even began. He had his head on the vampire's chest, their legs were tangled together, their breathing was matched. Tesla had one hand on the back of Henry's neck, playing with the short hair at his nape, while one of Henry's hands clutched at the front of Tesla's night shirt. It was an awkward embrace, but an organic one, and both slept soundly that night, only rising with the sun.

...

Their last evening at the cottage came all too quickly. Henry had begun sulking that morning, which Tesla called him on over breakfast.

"Wipe that pout off your face this instant. You're souring the _bechamel_ sauce."

Over the course of the day, Henry's dour mood had become worse. He avoided Tesla at all costs, instead holing himself up in one of the spare bedrooms, Tesla's iPod cranking out Chopin at an offensive volume.

By the time evening rolled around, Tesla's patience had worn through. He burst into the bedroom, bottle and two glasses in hand, and ushered Henry down the stairs to the parlour without so much as a "by your leave."

Henry barely put up a fuss.

Halfway through the bottle, Tesla asked, "Are you _really_ going to make our last night together so agonizing? Honestly, _Heinrich_, I thought you had more sense."

"I'm sorry," Henry said, rather sulkily. "This just sucks." The tips of his ears went red. "And don't say _our last night together_. It sounds like we're having an affair or tryst or something."

"Hmm. We are, of a sort. Not so much the tryst, as I've seen none of the benefits, but the affair bit is fairly accurate." Tesla leaned forward, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial hush. "You're cheating on life with _me_. You dog." He sat up straight again, a toothy grin sliding across his face. "But she's a cold bitch, anyway, so I see why you'd choose me."

"You didn't want that," Henry said absently, his voice distant.

"I beg your pardon?"

"The benefits." Henry narrowed his eyes at Tesla. "You never wanted that."

"Oh dear," Tesla moaned, bringing two of his fingers to his temple in dismay, "you're not suggesting your depression is a result of me not throwing myself at you, are you? Because, I've got to say, _Henri_, there are lines that should never be crossed."

"What lines? Are you saying that the thought of, you know, _us_ offends you?"

"No, I'm not saying that," Tesla said exasperatedly. "I'm _saying_ that I never expected anything from you. That's not why I'm here. I'm _here_ to help you get your head out of your ass and come back to reality. And in your reality, I'm not your HAP girlfriend waiting for you to take me to the moon and back."

"Oh, _real_ nice, Tesla!"

"Henry, let's be realistic. You hadn't even considered the possibility until just now."

"That's not true. I noticed your hands!" Henry gave Tesla a defiant look.

"Excuse me? My _hands_?"

"Yeah, your hands. I've always noticed them."

"And considered all the debauchery they could inflict upon you?

"What? No!"

"Henry," Tesla sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I believe we're having two very different conversations right now. Please tell me you're not that naïve." Henry crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, looking away from Tesla.

"You've become the best friend I have, Nikola. Right now, _you're_ my reality. And there are some things missing there that, you know, I want."

"Like sex." Tesla raised an elegant eyebrow.

"Not sex," Henry muttered. "Intimacy." A bright flush spread over his face, and he dared not look at Tesla.

"Wolfgang, we _cuddle_ every night. How much more intimate can you get?"

"Forget it," Henry snarled, standing. "Forget I said anything. You're obviously not getting where I'm coming from." He made to leave the room, but Tesla stood and grabbed him by the elbow.

"You're right. I don't speak _idiot_. I have no idea what you want from me, so unless you clarify, you're going to walk up those stairs in a snit and _I'll_ have to deal with the aftermath. So, Henry, _tell me what you want from me_." They locked eyes, both stone-faced, stock still. Finally, Henry broke the stare and blew out a big sigh.

"Biggie used to touch me all the time, you know? He would dope slap me, or hug me, ruffle my hair. _Show_ me that he cared."

"Again, I'll cite the cuddling."

"That's out of necessity, Nikola. I'm saying he _wanted_ to, he didn't feel he had to to keep the nightmares at bay, or whatever."

"Henry, when have you _ever_ known me to do something I don't explicitly _want_ to do?" Tesla's features softened slightly, and he squeezed Henry's elbow. "You're no burden to me. Granted, you're often a thorn in my side – quite literally, when you decide to go full moon at four in the morning – and you're the most indecisive and haphazard person I've ever known, but nothing I've done thus far has been out of necessity. I'm here because I want to be. How did you put it? I want to stay as much as you hate to go."

"Really?"

"No, I just like hearing myself talk. Yes, _really_. Now," Tesla said, a mischievous grin sliding onto his face, "I think a little revenge is in order, don't you?"

"Revenge? What –" Before he could finish his question, Tesla leaned forward and pressed his lips to Henry's. It was a chaste kiss, without heat, but full of affection none the less. It ended as quickly as it began.

"What the hell was that?" Henry asked breathlessly, his eyes wide.

"That, my dear _Heinrich_, was a promise."

...

Two days later, Henry found himself wrapped in the trembling arms of Helen Magnus. She cried all over him, sobbed out how much she missed him, wouldn't let go until Will convinced her that he, too, would like a hug.

It didn't feel like home anymore, but the people were right. Though there was a distinct absence, a family member missing in stark relief to those who had survived, there remained a sense of hope, that one day it would all be okay.

When Magnus asked Henry what he had been doing all this time away from home, worrying Erika and everyone else sick, Henry told her he'd been with Tesla.

"Really, Henry, you can tell me when you're ready then," Magnus said lightly, smiling beautifully.

"Seriously, Tesla? You couldn't have come up with a more creative story?" Will asked, chuckling.

"Yeah, well, you know me," Henry replied, almost wistfully.

...

Henry hadn't heard from Tesla. He had been back at the Sanctuary for three weeks, checking his e-mails constantly, waiting for something, _anything_, a message, a word. Nothing came. It was as if the past few months had never occurred, as if Nikola Tesla existed solely for Henry when he was on his own, out in the wilderness of the world without a compass.

One night, however, Henry discovered an oddity in his new bedroom. Thrown across his bed was that ridiculous purple comforter, with a folded note lying gingerly atop it. With a deep breath, Henry picked it up and read his new favourite three words: _Welcome home, Henry_.

_Fin_

Author's notes: Thank you to all those who made it to the end. I hope you enjoyed my first cautious forays into the _Sanctuary_ fandom. There is more to come, as I won't be able to leave well enough alone. Expect to see a series bloom from this haphazard universe I've so created for myself. Thanks again for reading. ~ Lu


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